Special Delivery

Well, it's been a good long time since I've posted any updates to this blog.  However, I have just cause.  We have been quite busy rearing our newest addition!  On November 19, 2013, Kaityln Rose Hamilton completed our family unit!  Here is how her story began.

One would think that by my 6th pregnancy and heading towards my 4th delivery I would know the drill.  One would be wrong.  When it is said that all pregnancies and all deliveries are different, there is accuracy to that statement. 

I will be the first to admit that after the complications we had faced in prior pregnancies and in coping with prior losses, I was a little (a LOT) paranoid about all of the what if's of pregnancy.  While I absolutly LOVE being pregnant, I am way too obsessive to just go with the flow, I need to be able to control my situation more than pregnancy allows for.  However, I believe I made it through 38 weeks without making anyone want to disown me - well, I might have pushed my loved ones a little too far after the gestational diabetes tests, but I blame hormones!  Anyway, in previous pregnancies/deliveries, I did not feel contractions until it was just about go time and I was ready to start pushing or pretty close thereto.  That was not the case with this child. 

I had started feeling braxton hicks contractions pretty early on, but it was fairly obvious they were not the real deal.  After the 38th week my midwife, JoAnne, starting demanding that I report to the hospital for every twitch or twinge I felt (OK, perhaps that's an eggageration, but it seemed like it).  With my history of complications and speedy deliveries, she wanted to make sure I was in the hospital when I was ready to deliver.

After 3 or 4 "false" labor trips into L&D for observations, I actually did make it to my scheduled induction date.  I was scheduled to be induced once I hit 39 weeks because of my history.  JoAnne told me to report to L&D at 8:00 a.m. for our induction.  After we're there and settled, JoAnne comes in around 9:00 or so to get things started.  I had agreed to have my water broken, but did not want pitocin right away because I was trying to have a drug free delivery.  She broke my water at about 9:30 - we then started taking bets.  The nursing staff thought I was insane when I told them I planned to have her out before lunch.  Once everyone's weight/length guesses were recorded on the white board I got up and started the ritualistic pacing of the halls.  I was probably only walking for about 15 minutes or so when I started to feel some significant contractions.  I asked if I could labor in the hot tub for a while.  The nurse told me she would start the water and get the tub ready and I should go back to my room to let JoAnne check me before I get into the tub.  In the few minutes it took to wait for JoAnne to get to my room the contractions intensified drastically.  She told me that I was about 6 cm and she was no longer comfortable with me laboring in the hot tub because the hospital does not allow water births.  The pain went from a zero to oh-my-God-I'm-going-to-die in about 3 minutes.  I broke down and asked for the epidural.  As the anesthesiologist was administering my epidural I was unable to keep still.  He got the needle into my spine and administered a bulbous of the medicine when I demanded that I be checked because it was time.  The nurses all rolled their eyes at the overly dramatic, hysterical woman who is claiming it's time to deliver less than an hour after contractions even started, but they called JoAnne back into the room to pacify me.  Low and behold, I was at 9 1/2 centimeters.  Take that you cynical nurses!!!

After kicking the anesthesiologist out of the room before he could finish my epidural, JoAnne asked me if I wanted to push through the last half of a centimeter.  During my next contraction I pushed once and that got me to fully dialated.  She then told me that we could start to "really" push with my next contraction.  Next one came, I pushed once and out popped Kaitlyn.  The nurses were still prepping the delivery tray and getting their smocks tied up when JoAnne proclaimed, "It's a girl"!  The nurses were all baffeled that they missed it and that it really did happen that quickly.

My baby girl was born, after only 2 pushes, at 12:39 p.m. on November 19, 2013, weighing 7 pounds, 5ounces and measuring 20 inches long.  Turns out my dad won the bet for weight/length and I got to order lunch after all.  After 3 years of trying, to finally have my perfect, healthy little girl in my arms.... it was amazing.  This little person that I had only just met healed my heart and completed our family.  The pain of labor and delivery was well worth it to have my heart feel so full and complete again.

I must admit that, at least a part of me is sad that this delivery is our last planned baby and all the firsts we watch Kaity achieve will be the last time we watch those firsts with a child of our own.  But I'm also excited to move onto the next chapter of our family life and watch my little babies grown into medium humans and then full-size adults.  I know it's early, but I look forward to the day when I get to help my own children and their spouses go through these reproductive years themselves. 

Happy 7th Birthday, Nicholas!

Leading up to Nick's 7th birthday, as I was cuddling with my baby before tucking him into bed for the night, I asked him how he would like to celebrate his upcoming birthday.  He tells me that he wants to have a party for his entire class at Pump It Up.  This is one of those warehouse locations filled with bounce houses and the like.  Children of all ages (Shawn!) are able to bounce, slide and navagate the obsticle course to their hearts content - or at least for the 90 minutes you get in the "play" room.  These parties, while fun for the children, are quite costly and, this soon after Christmas, money is pretty tight. 

I did my best to re-direct him to another more cost-efficient option - what 7 year old wouldn't enjoy taking a best friend to the movies, right?  He's not buying it.  I then try a more direct approach.  I explain to Nick that he does not need to invite his entire class to his birthday party because, this soon after Christmas, he does not need 30 children bringing him presents when he still hasn't even played with all his new stuff from Christmas.  Nick gives me a disapointed stare. He then explains to me that his wanting to invite his entire class is not about the presents - he simply wants all of his friends there.  How can I argue that?

After a few more minutes of discussion it is decided that Nick can have his super expensive Pump It Up party.  Why did I cave?  Simple - my son is amazing!

On October 29, 2012, about 3 months before Nicholas' 7th birthday, Superstorm Sandy wrecked havoc on the New Jersey coast.  During this superstorm a large portion of the boardwalk in Seaside Heights was destroyed while other sections were simply swallowed by the ocean.  Nick, believing this to be "his" boardwalk, was deeply effected by the tragedy.  We all were - it was devestating.

Nicholas decides that, in order to be able to celebrate with all his friends, he will forego receiving birthday presents.  Instead, he would like to take up a collection of money to donate towards the shore clean up efforts - specifically the re-building of his beloved boardwalk!  He reasons that there are many agencies that are helping the individuals who lost their homes and other to help locate missing animals and others yet to assist with the debris removal - he wanted his party to be about helping to re-build the boardwalk itself.  How could I say no?

My children make me incredibly proud on a daily basis - they don't even need to do anything extrodinary to accomplish this task - it simply happens just because they're them.  However, the day that we were able to mail $250 to the Seaside Heights Administrator (and my uncle) that my little boy collected and generously donated was one that I won't soon forget.  Not only did he donate monies given to him for the purpose of donating, but he also generously decided to donate all money given to him by family/friends who did not know about his endevor. 

February 2, 2012 may very well have been the day that my little boy turned 7-years-old, but it was also the time when I realized, again, what a gift he is and how lucky I am to have him in my life.  I was also assured that, no matter how many mistakes Shawn and I have made as parents, we have done some things right if our little man is generous and loving enough to forgo his own birthday presents to give in a way that, in his mind, would be giving to the masses... everyone who can and will walk those boards for many, many years to come!

Happy Birthday, Nicholas! 

Happy Mother's Day 2012

I will admit that I was concerned about how I would feel this mother's day given that it fell on the weekend before my expected due date.  I feared that I would focus on what I've recently lost instead of focusing on the fact that I'm lucky enough to still have my own mother here and I'm blessed to have two healthy, beautiful children.  I decided that I was going to do my best to focus on the later of the two.  I believe I was successful in doing so.

My family spent this past weekend up in the Poconos where we recently purchased a parcel of land on which we keep a travel trailer and plan to spend as much time as possible.  I was relieved to find out that my parents, who also own land in the same community (I will admit, they were there first, I followed them there) were also planning on being there this weekend so I could spend mother's day with my children and my mom.  I really am spoiled!

The game plan was to have brunch together at our place.  Mom pre-made a casserole type dish and said she would also bring over fruit and pastries.   Sounded like a wonderful way to spend the morning.

I woke up that Sunday morning to the sound of relatively little (LARGE) feet running through the trailer towards our bedroom.  Then the weight of Nick pouncing on top of me happily screaming, "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!"  Not more than a minute later Evan joined the still-in-bed party.  I was so happy there was no room for remorse.

Mom and Pop came over as planned and we had a fantabulous breakfast.  The boys gave me wonderful cards - Evan drew his first ever (to my knowledge) stick figures and they were of me and him.  Shawn got me a lovely 'welcome' sign, Evan got me a birdhouse and Nick got me a wind chime - all to decorate the property with.  I love them all! 

Later in the day Nick and I went for a golf cart ride around the community.  It is my habit to always wrap my arm around whichever child is sitting next to me when we're doing this.  Nick kept telling me that he didn't need to me hold him.  He apparently believes he is now old enough to no longer need his mommy to hold him back from falling.  I reluctantly removed my arm.  We drove around for a bit and flew down 'Weee Hill' several times.  Nick excitedly asked if we could go to the 'fire park' and I agreed to take him.  As we pulled up to the park he tells me that we're going to play alien invasion and he's going to be R2D7.  Now, I'm all for playing with my kids - I enjoy board games and can go all out for cookie decorating when the mood strikes.  However, when it comes to the imagination play, I admit, I am seriously lacking.  But, it was mother's day and he was really excited, so I sucked it up and agreed to captain the ship.  I'm proud to say that we took proper evasive action to avoid total annihilation.  Nick was a brilliant tactical defense expert and I was able to pull him back into the ship when he was sucked out by the lack of gravity in the ship after we took an explosive hit from the aliens.

After we landed the ship we drove the golf cart over to my parents lot to say hi.  The road had quite a few pot holes and Nick didn't like how bumpy it was.  After we left to head back to our lots, Nick reached up and grabbed my hand, pulled my arm around his shoulders and made me hug him into that niche under my arm where, no matter how big they get, my kids fit perfectly.  I asked him why the change of heart about me holding onto him.  The conversation goes like this:

Nick - "it makes everything all better."

Me - "I make everything all better?  That means I'm doing my job."

Nick - "you and Daddy both, you make things all better."

Me - "Nick, I love your daddy very, very much.  He really is a great man.  We're lucky to have him."

Nick - "I love you very, very much.  And I love Daddy very, very much.  And I love Evan very, very much.  And I love Mom-Mom very, very much.  And I love Pop-Pop very, very much.  I love my whole family very, very much."

Me - "yeah, we're pretty lucky.  We have a great family."

This is when I looked into that crook in my arm and saw my little baby smiling a giant smile up at me looking perfectly content with his life.  Nick is getting way too big way too quickly and I don't get to see that little baby that often anymore.  In that moment I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to do. 

Happy Mother's Day to everyone who has ever had the pleasure of mothering children.

Tribute to Kaylee Noel Hamilton - 1/20/12

Below is a letter that I wrote to my loved ones shortly after Kaylee was born. Though this is generally a light-hearted, happy blog, I do feel as though my little girl should be recognized. As it has been nearly 4 months since she was born, and I'm now 5 days away from my due date, I think I'm doing as well and can be expected. Not a day goes by that I don't think about my baby girl. However, thinking about her now doesn't necessarily make me cry these days.  I hope you enjoy the letter and that it relays to you how incredibly blessed I feel I am to have been able to be Kaylee's mom.

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Dearest Friends and Family,

The story I write may be sad and hard for some to read, but I feel as though it must be told for you to truly understand how very blessed my family has been since Kaylee became a part of it.  I'm not quite sure where to begin, and I cannot promise to go in any order, but the words you read here are honest and heartfelt.  First, let me say that Shawn and I are OK.  We are very sad, but we are OK.  The reason for this is that we are able to see all the blessings that Kaylee was able to offer us during her very short life.

The day that I was hospitalized, Tuesday, January 17th, was a day filled with denial and a lack of understanding of exactly what was going on.  Ultimately, we were told that my placenta had abrupted and my water bag had ruptured.  However, Kaylee's little heart was still beating strong.  The doctors told us that the safest course of action would be to terminate the pregnancy.  We could not fathom how one could end a life that was still so very strong and wanted.  Every test they ran on us came back with devastating news and hopeful news - balanced equally.  For every negative there was an equal positive... until Wednesday.  At some point my beloved Joanne (my midwife) came into the room and talked with us about DIC, a condition I had heard the doctors mention I was at risk for, but had no knowledge of.  She sat with us for some time and explained that all of the negatives they were telling us about put me at relatively high risk for developing this DIC and that she felt I needed to know exactly what it is.  As with anyone who's getting floods of information thrown at them, I do not remember all the specifics, but what I did hear was that DIC is a bleeding condition that has to do with clotting factors in the blood.  Since I had been bleeding for nearly 6 weeks at that point, they were very concerned.  Statistically, if I became affected by DIC, there would be an up to 50% chance I would not survive and, if I did survive, there was a great chance I would have permanent disabilities from the DIC and treatment.

Taking out the emotional factor, the choice would seem simple, but again, how do you end the life of your child to save your own?  Any parent would lay down their life in a heartbeat for their children.  However, if you're given more than a heartbeat to think about it, you realize that, as a parent, your life is not your own to give.  I am not just one person.  I am a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, etc... Who am I to end the life of the person that so many people love for that of one I love so much?  And if I were to continue with the pregnancy, would that be fair to Kaylee?  The chances of her staying in my womb long enough to not have major disabilities was so poor, yet not impossible... and the risks to her for being without amniotic fluid were also there.  Would Kaylee want to be born into a broken body?  Again, how do parents decide?  And, if we were to end her life, would we be able to live with ourselves for doing so?  The doctors said to us on multiple occasions that they had never, in all their careers, seen two people in a more difficult position.  If they were wrong, and a more difficult position ever existed, I cannot imagine.

We prayed with everything we had in us and everyone who would join us to allow us to not have to make this horrible decision.  We spent 4 days agonizing over what to do while listening to the steady thump of our daughter's heart.  I literally feel as though we were in hell for those 4 days.

On Friday, January 20, 2012, God answered all our prayers and rescued us from the hell we were in.  At approximately 2:00 in the afternoon I felt what I thought was a contraction.  By 3:30, the contractions where quite regular and my midwife was able to confirm that I had gone into labor naturally.  Kaylee Noel was born at 9:18 p.m. on January 20, 2012.  While her heart had been beating early that day, by the time she was born, it had stopped.  I am grateful that we had the strength, faith and patience to await His decision instead of taking actions we would have never forgiven ourselves for.  After Kaylee's birth, we were able to find out exactly what she was up against medically and know in our hearts that, had the pregnancy continued, Kaylee would not have had any real quality of life.  There is no question that we did not do every single thing we possibly could have to give our daughter the best chance she had, it simply was not meant to be.

In the days after Kaylee's passing, Shawn and I have become so enlightened.  Our daughter may have only lived for 22 weeks and 6 days, but she taught us more in that short life then we could have learned living the rest of our lives without having known her.  She was a fighter and held on long enough to allow us the opportunity to get all the medical answers we needed to avoid all of the "what if" questions.  We discovered how deep our faith truly runs in God and in each other.  We witnessed first-hand how loved and supported we are by those around us.  We learned what it is like to become the parents of an Angel and feel blessed to know that she is watching over us.  Though we are in pain, we would not give up a moment of the time we spent with Kaylee.  We are very proud of our little girl, as she had the strength to give her life to save her mommy's because, in the end, that is what Shawn, Nick, Evan and the rest of our family needed.  As I've said before, Kayle's little body was simply too tiny to hold her enormous spirit.

While I appreciate all the prayers and well wishes, I ask that we all go on living our lives in search of happiness - that is what Kaylee would want for us all.  Some tragedies pull families apart, Kaylee has made us closer and stronger than ever.  How could you not be grateful for such a gift?  I will not lie and pretend that all is right in my world.  My belly and my arms feel empty, but my heart is so full it helps to overcome the physical emptiness that Kaylee left behind.  While I have cried many sad and pain-filled tears over the past 2 weeks, I have also cried tears of love and gratitude.  I do not know if it was facing the prospect of my own death, or simply surviving the loss of my daughter, but I really do have a whole new outlook on life.  I am blessed in all that I have and pray that I never again take a single moment for granted.  People often ask if it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.  I can answer, without a single doubt that yes, it is far better to have had the chance to love at all.

I love you all and thank you for all the prayers, good wishes and sympathy.  It is healing and very much appreciated.  I've been told to let everyone know if I needed anything.  I cannot speak to the days and weeks ahead, but for now, I have all that I need.  I promise to reach out if there is anything more anyone can do for us.  In the meantime, please honor my daughter by living a joyous life filled with love, faith and peace as these are the gifts she was able to give to us during her lifetime with us.

~Jessica

Five Days Out of Seven

Five Days Out of Seven


Five days out of seven, I spend my days at school;
from nine to five I really try to obey all of the rules.
I’ve been coming here since I was young, just a little baby;
but now I’m grown and must move on, taking all you’ve taught me.
From circle time to sharing time and every time in between,
I’ve grown so much, I’ve learned so much, from everything I’ve seen.
From crawling and walking to penmanship and math;
you’ve shown me right from wrong and kept me on my path.

Five days out of seven, I report to class each day;
Hoping after class is over, we’ll have some time to play.
You taught me how to write my name and one plus one is two.
You never made me feel that you had better things to do.
There may have been days that I didn’t listen, when I was out of line;
you took the time to make sure that my punishment fit the crime.
The lessons that I’ve learned here will guide me through my days,
you’ve helped me become a better person in, oh, so many ways.

Five days out of seven, you’ve watched me learn and grow,
you are to thank for teaching me half of what I know.
I know that I will miss Justice Juniors and my friends here.
I will cherish every memory, every moment so dear.
My teachers here are more than that, they’re more like family,
so, thank you for everything, Miss Monica and Miss Niki.
And though my days at school with you are filled with so much fun;
it’s with a heavy heart I say, “kindergarten, here I come!”
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This is the poem that I wrote to present and read to the teachers at my little boy's preschool graduation on Thursday. I'm sure I'll be a blubbering mess, but I think I can get through it. I cannot believe my baby is going off to kindergarten.

What do you know? He does pay attention - when it suits him!

Before kids, before marriage, shortly after buying our house together, Shawn and I divvied up the house chores. Due to my compulsive shopping habits and Shawn's lack of enjoyment of yard maintenance, it was decided that I would mow the lawn and Shawn would do the grocery shopping. We are content with this set up.

A few years later, after marriage and children, this is still our arrangement. However, Shawn is now trying to convince Nick that it is not helpful when he puts one of each brand of fruit snacks into the cart and I'm constantly shutting off the mower before Evan sticks his hands under it. Chores are much more difficult and time consuming when you bring children into the mix.

This past Sunday Shawn announced that it was time to go to the store. Nick adamantly states that he does not want to go, he is staying home with mommy. Evan is in the corner trying to put his sandals on the wrong feet. Typically, whichever child accompanies Shawn to the grocery store gets to pick out a car off the Hot Wheels rack. Nick is torn weekly because he wants the car, but he doesn't want to go. This week he begs Shawn to get him a car even though he's not going. Shawn doesn't commit either way.

An hour or so later Shawn and Evan come in the house - Evan showing off his brand new aquamarine Camaro. Nick asks 1,000 times per second, "did you get me a car daddy?" Shawn tells him to calm down, he did get him a car, it's in one of the bags and he'll get it in a minute. Nick tears through every bag until he finds it.

While I'm putting away squashed bread and dented canned goods (thanks Nick) Nick finds his new car. He flips it over and discovers that, much to his chagrin, Daddy has picked out a PURPLE car. Nick throws the car onto the ground and declares, "I don't like this car. This car is purple. I HATE the color purple!" Shawn and I are stunned by this. This is not our child. Our Nicholas is always grateful when someone gives him a gift. Who is this person and what did they do with our boy?

Before Shawn is able to correct him, I jump in and lecture my child, "you do not get to act like an ungrateful little brat! Daddy was nice enough to buy you a car even though you didn't go to the grocery store with him. You thank someone when they give you a gift - even if you don't like it. Now apologize to your father!"

Nick hangs his head in shame and apologizes to Shawn. Shawn explains that, had Nick gone with him to the store, he could have picked out whichever car he wanted. Nick tries to make everything better by picking up the car, handing it over to me and telling me that I can keep it because purple is my favorite color.

I'm back in the kitchen and continue to unload groceries. I pull out the cottage cheese that Shawn bought for my breakfasts this week. Yuck! It's store brand cottage cheese in a ginormous container. This is not the cute little individual serving Breakstone's cottage cheese I was expecting. I say to Shawn, "eew, this is yucky cottage cheese. Why didn't you get the good stuff?" Nick responds smugly, "mommy, don't be ungrateful! Be glad that daddy got you any cottage cheese!"

Now I'm torn. Am I to be grateful that he absorbed the point we were trying to make by correcting him or am I angry that he's mouthing off at his mother? Guess it doesn't matter because, in the end, I know that I'm amused and laughing my ass off.

He's a Little Runaway

A few weeks back the boys and I were coming in from work/school like normal. I had way too many things in my hands, they were running around out front in every direction except towards the house and, I swear, I heard the ground doves laughing at my attempts at rounding them up from their positions on the telephone lines above. Like a said, normal.

We burst through the door with the quiet gusto of a swat team during a drug raid. I tell the boys to take their shoes off and walk the 15 steps over to the dining room table where I unload the previously mentioned too many things onto a chair for sorting. This was when I noticed it was unusually quiet in my house. I look back and realize that Evan is not there with Nick. I also realize that the front door is slightly ajar.

I yank the door open and look out front, but do not see Evan anywhere. I run upstairs to search for him in their bedrooms while calling out to him. Evan has recently discovered the entertainment value in a well played game of hide-and-go-seek, so I'm used to him not responding when I call for him. The more panic in my voice, the less likely he is to respond. This is when I call out Shawn for back up.

While I'm looking under mattresses and inside toy boxes Shawn burst out the front door yelling Evan's name. He makes it down our front lawn and hears a voice from around the corner shouting back, "we have him!" Shawn runs down the street towards the mystery voice. This is about the time when I really start to panic (I'm still inside and know nothing of "The Voice" nor do I have any clue where my two-year-old is). I run out front and see Shawn carrying Evan back towards the house from several houses away - ACROSS THE STREET!

Come to find out that Evan not only crossed the street, but he ran down the block and around the corner. This must've been when he thought it was a good idea to go back out into the street to play - right when a car was headed towards him! Lucky for Evan and even luckier for us two angels dressed as grandmothers were walking their grand-daughter around the block and saw him. They got him out of the street and asked him which way his house was. The little bugger knew so they started walking him in the direction he pointed. This is the point in the story where I'm literally squatting on the ground trying not to throw up on my own feet from the panic, anxiety, terror, adrenalin and, finally, relief that I'm feeling.

The grandmother-angels where very understanding of how a two-year-old could escape a house in the bat of an eye and didn't find it necessary to call in Child Protective Services or anything, but they did get a good laugh out of us.

Once I could stand up again without feeling dizzy I marched directly into my mother's house. I did not greet her, I did not acknowledge my father, I simply demanded that she "lift the curse." I am well aware that at many points in my childhood and adolescence my mother mumbled the words, "I hope you have one just like you," to me. I wanted her to take it back because this little stunt proved to me that Evan is much more like me than I care to admit. My mother simply grinned and told me it was too late. I ask her, "don't you care about the personal safety of your grandchild? Take it back!" She explains that she would if she could, but that what's done is done. She also points out that she had no idea she would be living next door to me and my children when she mumbled those words all those years ago. Had she realized she would have to live through it all over again, I'm sure she would have bitten her lip.

It seems all too clear to me that the curse cannot be lifted and I am stuck raising a little monster who acts just like his mother. The good news is that he inherited his father's good looks and eventually I mellowed out, so there's a decent chance he will too.

Prove it!

Like many parents, I tell Nick that I will check on him before I go to bed and kiss him one last time. Shawn takes him up, reads him a story and tucks him in. Nick has begun a new habit in the last couple of weeks that I just have to share. Before giving in and going to sleep, Nick gives me a stuffed animal off his bed. Each night it is a different stuffed animal. Each night the instructions are the same. When I go into his room at night to check on him, I am to return the stuffed animal to it's rightful place in his bed. This is to prove that I really did go into his room to check on him. The last couple nights he's even gone as far as telling me exactly where in his bed the animal should be placed. I am fascinated by this. I don't know what is more amusing to me, the fact that Nick doesn't trust that I really go in to check on him and he needs proof, or the fact that he came up with such a clever way for me to prove it to him. Either way, I think I'm in for it when he starts questioning the existence of Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. I wonder what we're going to have to do to prove how real they are.

annunciation can be very, very important

So, I go to drop the kids off at school the other day. Nick's preschool teacher calls me into a separate classroom to discuss an issue with me. Uh oh, I'm worried, we can't even talk out in the open, what the hell happened? She proceeds to tell me that they were having a classroom discussion the day prior about getting dressed up. Reasons why people get dressed up, where they would go, etc. Someone mentioned getting dressed up and wearing a wig. The teacher then asks if anyone knows who would wear a wig when they get dressed up. According to the teacher, my Nicholas proudly announces to the whole class that "the blacks do". This baffles the teacher because none of the children, let alone my Nicholas, have ever referred to black people as "the blacks" in the classroom. I'm baffled because first, Shawn and I do not use that phrase, and second, Nicholas is still young enough that, to him, black people are brown. She continues. She asked Nicholas why he would say that and he responds, "because they do. All of them do." When asked how he knows this he tells her that he saw it on TV. I have no idea how to respond to this. I do tell her that, if this is what he said, he couldn't have meant anything derogatory by it. She knows this, but has to bring it to my attention because apparently, one of the other children repeated the conversation to his/her parents who were concerned and questioned the school. Great.

I apologize and tell her that I will speak to Nicholas. At this point the children are cleaning up the toddler room where they're all dropped off in the morning and filtering into their age appropriate classrooms. Nick is playing with/putting away mega bloks. I pull Nick aside, into the bathroom as this is the only place where we can be alone, and I explain that he is not in any trouble, but that I need to ask him about something. The conversation goes as follows:

me: "Your teacher tells me that you told her 'the blacks' wear wigs. Why would you say this?"

Nick: rolls his eyes and slaps a hand against his thigh as if he's had this conversation 400 times. He responds, "no, I told them, the BLOCKS wear wigs!"

me: "Nicholas, do not fib to me, blocks do not wear wigs."

Nick: "They do in that commercial where the daddy and little boy are in a car driving and their hair falls off and they swap hair. And in that movie where they're under water searching for treasure. All the little block people that I have wear wigs. And you can swap their wigs between them."

me: hysterical laughter

Apparently Nick was thinking about the plastic hair that the little Lego people have and he was describing a commercial that currently runs on TV and the cartoon about Lego Atlantis. I'm utterly relieved that my child is not referring to an entire race of people as "the blacks" and cannot wait to share with his teacher (who happens to be black) how misunderstood he was in this instance.

I'm not sure who found the explanation more entertaining, but I'm sure that we all owe Nicholas an apology!

Happy Birthday to Nick (and Shawn)

Groundhogs' day is a very special day in my family. Not only is it the day that Panxsutawney Phil lets us know how much longer we have to wait until spring, it is the day that 2 out of the 3 men in my house were born. Granted their actual days of birth were 35 years apart, but Shawn and Nicholas do share a birthday. This particular year was a biggie because Shawn hit the big 4-0 and Nicholas turned 5. I cannot believe that my little man is already 5-years-old, never mind that I'm married to a 40-year-old. Neither of them act their age - Shawn acts years younger and, at times, Nicholas seems much more mature to me.

For their actual day we didn't do too much. Nicholas brought Ben 10 cupcakes to school for him and his friends to enjoy. Shawn went off to work like any other day. We let Nick pick what we were to have for dinner - pizza - and had a couple people over for a small celebration. Mom-mom, Pop-pop, Uncle Jim, Aunt Diane, Uncle Jose and Anthony all joined us for pizza and cake. It has become tradition that I get a canoli cake for Shawn every year. Since his birthday has been overshadowed by Nick's, I think it's only fair that he gets his favorite cake. Both boys made out well with their gifts this year. Nicholas got the Tangler, Chopper and Fangor Battle Force 5 vehicles from Mommy, Daddy and Evan; the Zelix vehicle from Mom-mom and Pop-pop; the movie Alpha and Omega from Uncle Jim and a Nerf sword and shield set from Diane, Jose, Olivia and Anthony. It was a nice night - the kids had fun playing and the adults got to chit chat for a while before calling it a night. The actual party was scheduled for the following Sunday (super bowl Sunday).

We had a very busy weekend planned. On Saturday, we were expecting cousins from out of town to drive in, in the morning. Then, those cousins, Nick and I were going to head out to Manhattan for another cousin's first birthday party while Shawn went to a tattoo convention with a good friend of ours. I don't know what was more exciting to Nick, going to NYC, riding the train to get there or being able to go with one of his favorite cousins. Then, Sunday morning was Nick's birthday party at Pump it Up. Before the weekend ever began I was exhausted.

Friday night, the boys and I headed out to go shopping for a birthday gift to take to the city. We were nearly to the front door of the store we were heading to when Nick started acting funny. He told me that he was going to be sick and, before he could even finish what he was saying, he threw up right there in the parking lot. I sent Shawn and Evan into the store to get some water and I stayed with Nick to make sure he was done and OK. A couple minutes later he told me that he was fine and we could go inside. I cleaned him up and went inside to find the other half of my family. We were able to shop without incident and Nick seemed to be feeling perfectly fine. Of course, I was still terrified thinking about the weekend we had planned and what this new development meant for those plans.

We finished at that store, but I still needed to run into the book store really quickly. I told Shawn to wait in the car with the boys while I ran inside. I couldn't have been more than 15 minutes, but Nick was passed out in the car by the time I came back out. Obviously he wasn't feeling well, it was 2 hours before bedtime and he was out cold.

We got home and, aside from being tired, Nick seemed OK. I still contacted the out of town cousins to let them know that it was possible Nick was really sick. In the morning Nick seemed better, but still tired. I was not willing to over do it by going to the city and having him too sick to go to his own birthday party, so I contact the cousins and let them know that we weren't going to the city, but that they were still more than welcome to come to our place for the night if they wanted. If not, we totally understood and wouldn't be upset at all. They decided, partly due to a cold on their side as well, to cancel the trip and stay home. We decided we would plan another weekend trip to the city to make it up to the kids.

Shawn still went to the convention as planned and I stayed home with the boys. Nick has been sick before, but he has never acted the way he did on Saturday. He showed no symptoms of being sick other than being a couch potato all day. Nick literally sat on the couch and watched TV all day. He did not get sick, he had no fever, he claimed he felt fine, but him system apparently needed some rest. I did notice that he was not eating very much at all though.

Thankfully, around mid-afternoon, Nick jumped off the couch and started acting like himself. He and Evan ran around and played the rest of the afternoon. I was so relieved that it looked like he would be fine for his party after all. I was beginning to think I was going to have to go and host his birthday party without him.

Sunday morning I was the first one out of bed in the house. I was downstairs getting our things together for the party when Nick came downstairs. He had a big grin on his face and told me that he felt all better and would be able to go to his party! He seemed so happy that his belly did not betray him. The rest of the family woke up in turn and we were off to Pump it Up for Nick's party. I must admit that the thought of Nick bouncing around on giant inflatables was terrifying to me after how he had been acting, but what were we to do?

Thankfully, Nick was able to play to his heart's content without vomiting on any of his guests! I'm not sure which of my kids had more fun, but they both ran around like lunatics. Now, I'm sure hosting a birthday party with a guest list of 25 children is not how Shawn envisioned his 40th birthday to be, but he was a trooper and even seemed to have some fun of his own. After an hour and a half of bouncing, the kids sat down to eat their pizza and cake.

Back at home we unloaded all Nick's loot. He had so many bags and boxes filled with presents I thought we would need an addition on the house to fit it all. Luckily he's a pretty generous kid and packed up a box full of toys to donate just before his birthday to make room for new toys. I think his favorite toys this year were his Nerf swords, his Ben 10 car (from his girlfriend Brielle!) and his Imaginext Batcave.

Once all the presents were opened, all the garbage thrown away and Nick could finally just play with his new toys we all crashed as if we hadn't slept in years. I s'pose the toys will have to wait until after nap.

Evan Has A Dream

Evan is now 2-years-old and in the toddler room at his preschool. On occasion, the kids are assigned homework. Usually their homework is tracing letters or shapes or coloring in a picture. For Martin Luther King, Jr. day, Evan was assigned homework of a different nature. He was asked to write his own 'I have a dream' poem. Now, I'm sure the teachers realize that a 2-year-old, even one as brilliant as mine, cannot write poetry. Therefore, I took it upon myself to write a poem on his behalf. I believe I truly captured Evan's spirit and was able to relay what Evan would have written about had he been able to comprehend the assignment. The poem that Evan turned in read as follows:

Evan Has a Dream

Evan has a dream that, one day, he will live in a land

where all adults beckon to his every command

And in that land, his word would be law

all would obey him, big and small

Every TV would be tuned to PBS, Nick Jr. or Disney

so he could view his Super Why, Wubsy or Mickey

He would be served chicken nuggets upon request

Eat a vegetable? Surly you jest

Playtime for all, any time, every day

these are his rules, this is his way

Never a time out or a harsh disciplinary word

punishing Evan, the thought is absurd

Bath time is meant for bubbles and fun

and squirting Daddy with his water gun

Bedtime is flexible, he'll sleep when he's through

running and jumping and giggling too

Evan has a dream and I hate to admit

he's closer that I'd like, to accomplishing it!

The Polar Express

As I mentioned in my last post, Nicholas has not wanted anything anywhere nearly as badly as he's wanted to ride on the Polar Express. he has asked every Santa, wished on every star and even prayed for a chance to ride on the magical train and head to the North pole. After much drama, we were able to score tickets for the Polar Express ride run by the Delaware River Railroad Excursion in Phillipsburg, New Jersey! We even managed to get a couple extra tickets so Nick could bring his girlfriend Brielle (and her mommy, of course) with us.

We decided not to tell Nick ahead of time about the ride. I was afraid that he would ask 9 million times a day until the day arrived. I think the anticipation of Christmas itself is about all my Nicholas can handle.

Saturday morning I sat Nick down (in front of my video camera) and told him that Santa has called me with some good news and some bad news. I told him that Santa had called to say that he knew Nicholas wanted to ride the Polar Express, but that, unfortunately, he would be far too busy on Christmas Eve to allow Nick to ride with him. Nick looked upset, so I didn't leave him hanging for too long. I then told him that the good news was that, if Nick were able to get into him jammies, Santa said he could ride the Polar Express TONIGHT! Nick slapped himself in the had and fell over in excitement. He then told me that that was, "awesome good news!"

After lunch and nap, Brielle and he mommy met us at the house. We let the kids exchange Christmas presents - Nick got a Battle Force 5 battle action Saber vehicle; Evan got a set of Dinosaur Train figures and Brielle got a ballerina jewelry box and a Hello Kitty necklace and bracelet to go in the jewelry box - loaded them all into my van and headed towards Phillipsburg.

Once we arrived in town - a long ride when you're traveling with 3 over-excited children under the age of 6 - we pulled into a parking lot along the Delaware River and loaded onto a trolley, which took us to the train station. Upon arriving at the train station, I turned in my confirmation e-mail for 6 shiny, golden tickets. Nick was just as excited about his golden ticket as he was about the pending ride. We boarded the train with little incident and immediately started searching for the bathroom. Brielle and I were waiting in line to use the bathroom when she asked the Conductor how long the train ride would be. The Conductor then showed me just how amazing this ride was going to be. She replied by taking a golden pocket watch out of her vest and telling Brielle that the ride would last approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes or as long as it took to reach the North Pole. She then looked more closely at her watch and shouted, "oh my, we're late! We can't be late! I've never been late!" She then pocketed her watch and took off towards the other end of the train in a mad hurry. I had been on the train less than 5 minutes and was already very impressed.

After potty break time was over and we were all seating, a loud "all aboard" echoed through the train car and we were off. It wasn't long before the Conductor was punching tickets. Nicholas and Brielle both got a "B" for believe (though Brielle thinks it was for her name) and Evan got a "L" for lead. Shortly thereafter, the kids were served hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies. I believe that's when a recording of the story, The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg, was played over the intercom. After the story was finished, the train unexpectedly jolted to a stop. The Conductor shouted that there was only one reason the train would stop - it must be caribou! Shortly after that, we reached the North Pole where Santa and his elves took a short break from their toy making to visit with us on the train. Santa and his elves visited with every family and posed for pictures with each child. Every child on board was given a bell - the first gift of Christmas. Brielle's mom and I visited the gift car and bought some goodies for the kids. Then Santa's elves walked through selling stuffed Santa's - of course we picked up a couple of those as well. A ride on the Polar Express wouldn't be complete without a visit from some Hobos, so after Santa returned to the North Pole, a couple Hobos climbed aboard and lead us in some Christmas carols. One of them had a guitar while the other played an accordion and trumpet (not at the same time). By the time they were finished we were nearly back at the station.

While the children were disappointed that they were not able to get off the train while we were at the North Pole, they accepted the explanation that nobody was allowed at the North Pole during Christmas time. I told them that we were lucky that Santa took a break to come and visit with us. When asked about the children in the story who were able to run amok at the North Pole, I explained that I thought that part of the story was made up.

The characters on board the train did a wonderful job entertaining us during the trip. During the lulls, Shawn was able to occupy the children by having them hunt for North Pole Monkeys by shining their flashlight out the train window into the passing woods.

While Evan and Brielle passed out in the car on the way home, Nick was wide awake the whole ride. He even continued to talk to Brielle long after she fell asleep.

This entry was written almost immediately after we rode the train, but an error with the website prevented me from publishing it right away. I then got super busy with the holiday, our annual visit from my in-laws and everyday life. Since I am finally (a month later) getting around to re-typing and publishing this story, I thought I'd ask Nick was his favorite part of the ride was. His answer - "when Santa came on the train with us!" Evan still hollers, "All Aboard" every time he sees a train. Proof that, at least so far, the kids are remembering their magical night!

A Call from Santa Clause

My son, Nicholas, has been wishing on every star he sees for the past several months for a chance to ride the Polar Express this year. He is absolutely obsessed with the movie and has been watching it year round for the past 2 years. Every time he wished for that special train ride I would have to explain that he couldn't ride the Polar Express because it's a special, magical train just for children who don't believe in Santa Clause. It broke my heart to tell him he couldn't do the one thing he was asking to do. Then, one day at work, I Googled 'Polar Express train ride' and just about had a stroke when I saw that, not only do they have a licensed Polar Express train ride, but that it departs from a fairly local train station! Tickets were very cheap and they had multiple rides every weekend from Thanksgiving through Christmas. I was so excited I called Shawn at work and told him that we could make Nick's dreams come true after all. He agreed and told me that we would get tickets. Since that was back in October, I saved the link to my favorites and went back to work.

Fast forward to mid-November. I pulled up the train station's website to order our tickets and, again, nearly had a stroke. They were sold out! Every ticket, every ride, every date. I nearly cried I was so broken hearted. I felt like parents did in 1983 when they couldn't get their hands on a Cabbage Patch Doll. I consulted sites like StubHub, Craigslist and Ebay in search of tickets. I came up empty handed. After days of desperate searches I finally found an add on Craigslist posted by someone who was selling tickets for 2 adults and 1 child. A call to the train station informed me that children under 2-years-old could ride on their parent's lap without a ticket for $1. I immediately contacted the seller telling him that I wanted his tickets, but I was too late. He had already sold them. At that point I posted my own add on Craigslist.

After nearly a week I was contacted by someone selling tickets. She had tickets for 2 adults and 3 children. I was willing to eat the cost of the extra ticket, so I told her that YES, I definitely wanted her tickets. She told me that she would like us to pay her via PayPal and that she would give us her confirmation number that the train station e-mailed her when she purchased the tickets. According to her, they do not issue actual tickets, rather, they e-mail confirmation numbers. At that point I was willing to risk being ripped off for a chance to get these tickets, so I chose to believe her. However, I am not completely naive. I also chose to call the train station to confirm that this was how they sold their tickets before completing the PayPal transaction.

As I was listening to the automated recording that you get when calling the train station my cell phone rang. I hung up the land line and checked my cell phone's caller ID for the incoming phone number. The caller withheld their number. I answered the phone and the conversation I had with the caller went like this:

me: "hello"
caller: "Jessica?"
me: "this is she."
caller: "hello, this is Santa, I'm about to make your dreams come true."

instead of asking when he was giving me a million dollars, I simply replied: "oh yeah?"
caller: "I heard you were looking for Polar Express tickets."
me: "uh huh." (said dripping with scepticism)
caller: "well, I have tickets, so how many do you need?"
me: "who is this really?"
caller: "I told you, it's Santa Clause."
me: "well Santa, I'm actually in the middle of buying tickets off a lady on the internet."
caller: "OK, well then you're all set"
me: "I do know other people who would be interested in your tickets. What do you have?"
caller: "I'm not really interested in other people. I saw your add on Craigslist and chose to help you"

I don't know why exactly, but at this point I was thinking this man had to be an employee at the train station. I guess that's easier to believe than thinking that Santa Clause would track me down at my desk. Anywho, the conversation continued:

me: "oh, well I was actually in the process of calling the train station when I answered your call. I have general ticketing questions. Does Santa know anything about ticketing?"
caller: "Santa knows everything about everything. What's your question?"
me: "the person I'm buying the tickets off of has 2 adult and 3 children's tickets. Would it be possible to upgrade one of those children's tickets to an adult ticket? And, if so, can we then also add in a lap sitter?"
caller: "which date and time are your tickets for?"
me: "December 18th at 6:00"
caller: "oh, you're buying Jan's* tickets."
me: "how'd you know that?!"
caller: "I told you, I'm Santa Clause. Jan bought her tickets over the summer and it turns out her daughter is in a play that day so they can't go." (this is all information that Jan did provide to me during our conversation the day prior)
me: "wow"
caller: "we should have no problem getting you on that train, just throw an donation in the donation jar and, if anyone questions you, tell them Santa said it was OK."

Before ending my conversation with Santa, I also confirmed that I only needed a confirmation number to get onto the train. I then hung up the phone and immediately called Shawn and told him to finalize the PayPal transaction. I explained that I just got a call from Santa himself and that we're apparently meant to be on this train.

The game plan is for us to give 2 of the tickets to my friend so she and her daughter (Nick's girlfriend) can join us. This works out perfectly because several days ago her daughter asked a teacher at her after school program if Santa was real or not. The idiot teacher told her that Santa was not real and that mommies and daddies buy all the Christmas presents. She was able to convince her daughter that the teacher was wrong - "I guess she thinks Santa's not real because she's on the naughty list and never gets presents from him!" - and that Santa is, in fact, real. I'm sure that this excursion will go a long way towards proving that he does exist for my friend's daughter. If the train ride doesn't prove it, I had a phone conversation that certainly proved his existence to me!

Empathy of a Four-Year-Old

This past Saturday, I noticed that our cat, Bullet, seemed to be quite sick. I will not go into too many details, but he had lost a significant amount of weight in a very short period of time. I made an emergency vet appointment and took him to see the doctor. During the examination, the vet found that Bullet was not only loosing weight rapidly, but he was also very jaundice and anemic. This most likely pointed towards his liver and/or kidneys not working properly. The vet explained that we had three options: put him to sleep then and there, run hundreds of dollars worth of diagnostic tests or take him home with medication and hope the meds helped. We chose to try the medication. We took him home with steroids, antibiotics, vitamins and an appetite stimulant. Unfortunately, Tuesday night, Bullet passed away in our laps.

Shawn and I decided that we were going to bury him in the woods behind our house like we had with our bearded dragons when they passed away. I think Evan's still too young to understand what was going on. It was after Nick was already asleep when Bullet passed, so we had to tell him today.

Bullet was Shawn's cat before we met, so, although he was OUR cat for the past 10 years, he was SHAWN'S cat even longer. As hard as this was on me, I believe it was harder on Shawn. I offered to be the one to tell Nick so that Shawn wouldn't have to. I wanted to be able to talk to him in the car on the way home, but I wanted to tell him face-to-face before we got into the car. When I went to pick him up from school, I pulled him aside and quickly explained what happened.

Nick was home with me when I noticed that Bullet was sick initially, so I asked if he remembered that Bullet had been sick. He said that he did. I told him that we were not able to get him better and that he died last night. Nick seemed taken back by the abruptness of my statement, but he didn't seem all that sad. That may sound harsh, but this made me happy. Of course I didn't want my son to be sad. I let him run off and play with his friends for a few minutes while I filled the teachers in so they would be prepared if/when Nick brought it up at school.

In the car on the way home Nick told me several times that he was very sad for Bullet. I explained to him that he didn't need to be sad for Bullet, that he was in a better place and no longer stuck inside a sick body. Nick and I have discussed souls before (in his words, a soul is the part that God puts in when a mommy and daddy are making a baby) so I thought he would understand that Bullet's soul went to heaven. He didn't have very many questions, but he did ask why he got sick and what kind of sick he had. The vet thought it might be cancer, but Nick's too young to know what cancer is or to understand the explanation. The last question that he asked me was, "mommy, do you know how you say goodbye to a cat?" I asked, "how?" He responded, "you just pet them on their backs and tell them goodbye." I told him that Bullet would like that very much.

When took Nick out with us for the burial. Nick said that he wanted to pet him and say goodbye. Shawn carried Bullet out to the woods with Nick following behind. We all pet him and I explained to Nick again that Bullet's soul was free to run and play as much as he wanted now and was not trapped inside a sick body anymore. When it came time to actually bury him Shawn and I were noticeably upset and started to cry. That's when my little boy said to Shawn, "Daddy, if you keep crying, you're going to make me cry too."

It melted my heart that Nick was so empathetic towards his daddy that simply hearing him cry would bring Nick to tears as well. I'm sure that Shawn and I will forever miss Bullet. I'm not sure if Nick will remember him in the years to come, but I am sure that the lessons he learned tonight will stay with him for life.

A Swarm of Bees

This year Shawn and I decided that it was high time we signed Nick up for a team sport. Neither of us ever played any sort of organized sport and thought it would be good for the kids if they had the chance to do so. We considered t-ball, but thought there was too much waiting involved for Nicholas. We would have loved football, but he's not old enough to play football in our town until next year. So, we settled on soccer.

Soccer is not really a favorite of ours. Honestly, Shawn and I don't participate in or watch any sports. However, since we figured at this age soccer would mostly be a gaggle of children running after a ball up and down a field, we thought this was perfect for our Nick.

We managed to figure out how to go about registering and even managed to request that Nick be on the same team as my girlfriend's son, but then we were left in the dark as to when the season would start, what the schedule would be like, what team he would be on... all sorts of things I thought would be important to know. All they told us was to sell this box of candy and to expect games to begin in September.

Sometime in the end of August, we got a phone call from a lovely man, Nick's Coach. Coach told us that practice would be on Thursdays and that games would be on Saturdays AND Sundays each week. WHAT?!?!? Nobody told us that we would have games on BOTH days of the weekends. We hardly have the time to get done what needs to get done as is, how are we going to handle throwing in games on both days of the weekend plus a weeknight? Coach also told us that we were playing for TSS Photography. Later I found out that our uniform shirts and socks were yellow and Nick was number 3. I managed to ask if my girlfriend's son was on our team and was so relieved to find out that she was and that I was not alone in this.

As much as we didn't like the schedule, we knew we did this for Nick, so we were going to hang in there for his sake. Unfortunately, since we didn't have the schedule ahead of time, we missed their first game. His first practice was too cute. Some of the kids were old enough that they played last year and/or last season and some of the kids were just as clueless as Nick. Coach had them playing games like "kick the coach" and running drills. Nick held his own. After practice we treated him to pizza and headed home. After running around for an hour, Nick actually seemed to be much more calm at home that night.

That weekend we were to attend our very first game. Division 7 teams play 5-on-5 with 3 offensive players and 2 full backs. Right, like any 4- or 5-year-old is really going to hold position. I was surprised to see that, for the most part, our team really did hold position. Our full backs didn't come far out of the goal and our offensive players did their best to get the ball into the other team's 'cookie jar' (Coach called their net a cookie jar because our objective was to get into their cookie jar - something all kids can understand wanting to do). Aside from holding their basic positions, this game really was 10 kids on a field and each of them wanting that ball. Since our boys were in yellow and black, it looked like a swarm of bees running around on the field. Kids were taking the ball from their own team mates without even realizing it. All they knew was that they wanted a chance to kick the ball.

By about half way through the season, the kids were showing a bit more control and patience. We won some games and we lost some games, but this is a non-competitive Division, so there were no official standings or anything. Nick did not score a goal during the season, but he did have a few really impressive plays.

During one of the games, Nick was able to get control of the ball and break away from the mob of children. He was headed straight toward the net with it. Since most of the other teams did not hold position, they had no defensive players anywhere near the net. It was a sure thing that he was about to score not only his very first goal, but the first goal of that game. I had become a soccer mom. I was jumping out of my folding camp chair, screaming at the top of my lungs and could feel my heart racing with excitement. All of a sudden, one of his own team mates must've misjudged how fast Nick was dribbling and accidentally ran over him. This boy did not simply trip Nick. He ran up his legs and across his back. Nick was laid out flat. Now, Nick may be overly dramatic (he was voted most dramatic in his class at this past year's graduation ceremony), but this time I don't think he was over reacting. Both teams took a knee and Coach ran over to check on Nick. As hard as it was to not run out on the field, I stood back and allowed Coach to do his job. Once I saw that he was checking Nick's wrist I could take no more. I ran out to the 20 yard line where my son was downed on his way toward his first goal. He had a couple bright red, cleat-shaped marks on his back, a pretty serious grass stain on his knee and tears in his eyes. After making him promise me that he would go back into the game for his turn during the 3rd quarter, I carried Nick off the field. Parents from both sides of the field applauded.

Nick really was OK, but still requested to play full back when he was called in for the third quarter. Coach allowed this and Nick was thrilled. He was doing a really good job blocking the shots on goal and didn't seem to mind that the other full back on his team was daydreaming more often that defending the net. The other team was able to make a shot on the net that was out of Nick's reach. Instead of just letting them score, my little Nick-Nick decided to jump up into the ball and block it with his chest. All you heard was the thunk of the ball hitting his ribcage. Silence from players and parents alike as we waited - what seemed like an eternity - to see if Nick was injured again or if he was proud of his awesome block. Nick simply looked down at his shirt, brushed the dirt off from where the ball hit and beamed this smile of pride that could be seen from the other end of the field. I was pretty sure he was not going to be too afraid to keep playing.

After getting run down, Nick was able to get the ball a couple other times, but as soon as he got up toward the other team's net and had to go head-to-head with their full back, he seemed to loose his steam. I'm not sure if it was fear because that's how he got hurt before, he didn't understand how to try to get around the other team, he really did get tired or just couldn't get the ball into the net. No matter, I was just thrilled that he was having a good time.

At one of the practices we actually got to have - most of our practices were rained out and we only wound up having 3 or 4 all season - Coach approached us and asked us which time slot we wanted for tag day. We had no idea what tag day was, but Shawn signed his name for a Saturday in front of a grocery store. Yes, we were to become those people who not only allow, but promote their children begging for money, with a tin can in hand, in front of a grocery store. Those people that I've always hated. Not because I have anything against them fundraising, but more because I don't usually have any cash on me and I hate the look of disappointment/hatred in the kids' eyes when I tell them that I would love to donate, but that I simply don't have any cash on me. Since we were not going to bring Evan along for the begging-for-money adventure, we left it up to Nick to decide which of us he wanted to bring him to tag day. Oh shucks, he chose Shawn. They were scheduled for the last hour-long shift of the day. Shawn tells me that Nick did fantastic. He spoke clearly and was polite to everyone. Everyone except the 2 people who flat out ignored him. To those individuals my son (yes, he's MY son here because I'm positive he learned this passive-aggressive behavior from me) shouted out, "hey, that's OK, thanks anyway" to their backs in a disgusted tone that had Shawn near hysterics. Nick was a natural. He would charm women by telling them he liked their purse and then follow up with asking for a donation. For the people who apologized but said they didn't have any money (hmmm, people like me) Nick was perfectly understanding and offered an honest, "thanks anyway". There was even a woman who claimed to not have money, Nick chatted her up and she wound up digging through her purse until she was able to find some change to give him. I was told that, during the full hour they were there, the only people that didn't appear to be absolutely taken with Nick were the two people who didn't acknowledge that he was even there. It's good to know that if our pro football dreams for Nick don't come to fruition, he has a great career of panhandling he can fall back on.

After all the complaining that I did about the schedule and the anxiety about starting up something new, turns out that we all seemed to really enjoy soccer. An old friend of mine once said to me when I first started dating Shawn that, if we were to get married and I were to take his last name, my married name would sound like a soccer mom's name. Here I am, 10-years later, driving a minivan and cheering on 10 little bumble bees while they play their hardest each weekend. I guess there is something in a name, huh?

Anyway, the season is over now and, I hate to admit it, but I sort of miss it. Coach tells us that there will be a post-season party at Chuck-E-Cheese in the coming weeks and that each player will be given a trophy for their participation. The parents will also get their children's pictures from the photo shoot half-way through the season.

Nick has decided that, instead of playing soccer again in the spring, he wants to give t-ball a try with my girlfriend's son. What the heck, we'll give it a try and hope that the schedule isn't as demanding. Then, if Nick wants to give it anther try, we'll go ahead and sign up for soccer again next fall.

I now understand why I was not involved in team sports. It is a big commitment, financially and time-wise. I do, however, believe that it's really good for the children and hope to be able to continue to allow Nick to play whatever sport he wants to play. I must admit though, I'm terrified for when Evan's big enough to play too. I have no idea how we'll manage the schedule then. I s'pose we'll figure it out somehow - other people manage and I'm sure we will too. I the mean time, I have the most adorable little bumble bee jersey with a number 3 on the back that I will hold onto forever as my Nick Nick's first every sports jersey. I may be a sentimental fool, but I'm a sentimental, proud, soccer mom fool!

Tootie Tattoos

First off, I must admit, I am one of those mothers who creates cutesy words for objects when the occasion calls for it. When Nick was a baby I started calling his feet tooties (footies but with a 't' instead of an 'f'). It caught on, with me anyway, and I've been calling my children's feet tooties ever since. I think, had it not been for daycare, Nick would still be calling his own feet tooties.

Anywho, when Nick was about 18-months-old, I decided to get a tattoo of his tooties. The hospital I delivered in does not do footprints when a baby is born, so I had to do them myself when he came home. They didn't turn out so well and I didn't want to get a tattoo of smeared ink, so I decided to do new prints and shrink them down. I thought I was being smart when I took my barefoot son into the office, stood him on the copier, set the machine to 40% and hit "copy". The image that spit out of the machine was perfect, but far from ink prints. At that point I realized that I really did have to get actual ink prints. Let me just tell you that inking the bottom of an 18-month-old's feet is not a good idea unless you're outside. Luckily I realized that pretty quickly and we moved out to the front porch. After many (and I do mean many) attempts, I finally got a set of prints I would be willing to have permanently tattooed to my body. Shawn was kind enough to pay for the tattoo for my birthday present that year. I decided to get the prints on the underside of my left wrist along with his first and middle names. Off to K&B we go and, walla, an adorable replica of Nick's little footprints imprinted on my wrist. Love it!

Now, I had decided prior to even getting the tattoo of Nick's feet that I would have to also get tattoos of the feet of any future children I might have. I even decided that, should my next child be a little girl, perhaps hand prints would be a great distinction between the two.

Well, Evan is nearly 2-years-old and I only just recently decided what and where I was getting tattooed in honor of my dear Evan. I did wind up getting his footprints as well, but decided against putting them next to Nick's or even on the other wrist. I decided to put Evan's on my back. Sort of symbolic of how much I allow this child to walk all over me. Not that Nick's not allowed, he just never did as much as Evan. Since my back if far larger than my wrist, I decided not to shrink down Evan's prints too much. They're pretty much true to size and positioned on my right shoulder blade. This time it was my brother who paid for the tattoo and, at his suggestion, we went to Mercury Tattoo. When I say this tattoo came out much, much better than the first it's like saying that the sun is hot. There is simply no comparison in the quality of work. It literally looks as if the tattoo artist dipped Evan's feet in ink and stamped them on my back with some magic ink that will never come off. It's simply amazing.

When we get home from the appointment I decided to show Nick. More so he didn't jump on my back and try to wrestle with me than anything else at that point. As soon as the bandage is taken off Nick asks, "how come Evan's are bigger than mine?" Luckily I thought he might notice/question that, so I was prepared to answer. I explained that, while Evan's are bigger, Nick's are more easily seen by everyone and that Nick's would have been true-to-size as well if my wrist was big enough for them to fit. He was happy with that explanation and hasn't given either tattoo another thought as far as I know.

Now, IF there's another baby and IF that baby is a girl, do I go with hand prints on the left shoulder blade, more footprints somewhere else or come up with another design all together? Since those questions do not need to be answered anytime soon I'm not going to worry too much about it, but I can tell you that I'm sure I will get more ink and I'm positive I will go back to Mercury Tattoo.

Happy Birthday to Me

I just recently celebrated my 32nd birthday. I honestly thought that I was well past caring for all the stereotypical birthday hoopla. I have to admit though, this year was lovely.

My anticipated plan for my birthday, which fell on a Friday, was go on Nick's annual school trip to the local farm for pumpkin picking, hay rides, making apple cider and playing with farm animals; heading back to the office after the post-farm preschool pizza party; rushing home from work for Nick's 6:00 soccer practice; grabbing dinner on the run; throwing the boys in the tub for a much needed bath and finally collapsing after a long day of running around. This is not, however, how I spent my birthday.

According to the local news channels, Friday we were expecting monsoon like conditions. By Thursday afternoon the school trip had been rescheduled and Nick's soccer practice had been cancelled. This freed up my day significantly.

When I came downstairs Friday morning Nick was already on the couch watching Battle Force 5. It seemed he had forgotten my birthday as he didn't offer happy birthday wishes. He didn't even smirk at me with that excited, knowing look he gets when he thinks he has a secret. Shawn prompted him to wish me a happy birthday. Nick then whispered his explanation to Shawn in his ear. From across the room I was able to hear clear as day Nick explaining that he could not wish me a happy birthday until we were ready to sing the song and we couldn't sing the song until after dinner when we wanted the cake to appear. Fair enough. At this point Shawn has a momentary look of panic cross his face. I guess this is when he realized he should pick up a cake - not as much for me as for the boys. After all, a birthday just isn't a birthday without a cake, right? Shawn left for work calling out his happy birthday wishes as he pulled the door shut behind him. I proceeded with my morning like normal.

I got the kids dressed, fed and off to school and even made it to my desk by 9:05! This is an accomplishment for me lately. I was greeted with home made chocolate chip cookies, donuts, philly soft pretzels, cupcakes and, best of all, a home made heath bar cake! I'm not one for birthday cake, but that cake was AMAZING! I forwent the Activia and banana in my lunch bag and dug into the goodies that were spread out in front of my desk. At lunch time I was even presented a Reese's peanut butter cake. I'm telling you, my co-workers really know my taste in sweets! Just after I finished eating my lunch a co-worker brings in a lovely bouquet of flowers that had been delivered for me. The card reads that the flowers were picked especially for me by Nick. When I called my husband to thank him for the flowers he explained that they really were totally Nick's idea. When asked what he wanted to get mommy for her birthday he told Shawn he wanted to get me flowers. Shawn allowed Nick to pick out the bouquet all by himself and Shawn ordered them for him. Shawn told me that Nick was really upset that he was not able to be there when they were delivered. This is one of the many, many times that having a daycare in your office comes in handy. My coworker took the flowers down to the daycare, signed Nick out (with my permission of course) and had him deliver them to me at my desk. I pretended that I had not yet seen them and allowed him the honor of bringing them to me himself. There are no words to explain how absolutely adorable my little Nick Nick was running down the hall, carrying a basket of flowers with a smile that wrapped all the way around his head plastered on his face. It was one of those moments that buys him forgiveness for some horrible thing he will inevitably do in the future. He was so proud of himself! He ran up to me, handed me the flowers and told me that he loved me "so much" and hoped I had a happy birthday. There were many hugs and I nearly cried - I honestly don't know how I managed to not cry. Then Nick saw the donuts and it was all down hill from there. He picked out a chocolate covered, tiger striped boston cream and chowed down. Half way through the donut I convinced him to save the rest for after dinner. I then delivered a newly sugared up Nick back to the daycare for his final hour of school. His teacher wasn't too happy, but informed me that Evan was about to have cupcakes for a party in the toddler room and that would be my revenge.

After getting home from work we didn't have to rush out the door to get to practice, so I was able to just sit on the couch and relax for a few minute. It was while I was sitting and relaxing that Nick informed me that he had to go upstairs to sign my card. Too cute! Shawn and the boys then presented me with lovely cards filled with love. They also got me a new camera to replace the one that Evan broke earlier this year. We were even able to go out to dinner since practice was cancelled. I choose a small little pizza place near Shawn's work, Cafe Dominico's, because I love their vodka rigatoni and they have the best home made bread. We took the boys with us and enjoyed a relatively uneventful dinner. Nick did however find out that pizza has TOMATO sauce on it. He declared that after the piece he was currently eating, he was never eating pizza again. I found this funny. After dinner mom came over to have some cake with us. I don't know if Shawn planned it all along, or if it was due to Nick's hint from earlier in the day, but he picked up a Reese's peanut butter pie - my favorite! Between that and the leftovers we had enough cake/pie to feed an army. Having young children in the house, they even had to sing 'happy birthday' to me. We did forget the candles though.

Don't get me wrong, I love my new camera, and I'm grateful to my mother for buying the kids' school pictures for me this year, but my very favorite birthday gift of all would have to be the memory I get to keep forever of my Nick Nick running up to me with an armful of flowers and that smile on his face. I can't be sure, but I believe it was equivalent to a parent watching their little girl walk down the aisle at their wedding. I was just filled with love and pride and I will carry that moment with me forever!

2005 Bath vs. 2010 Bath

In 2005 I was a happily married woman who had not yet experienced the joys of pregnancy or motherhood. My income exceeded my expenses (mostly); aside from my pack-a-day smoking habit, I was in relatively good health; I had a steady career; I had great, life-long friends - all in all, I had a wonderful life. However, I still needed to de-stress from time to time. In those days, when I found the time in my busy schedule for such extravagances, I would pamper myself by way of a relaxing bath. I would fill the tub with water as hot as I could stand it, dump in some bath salts, pour a glass of wine, grab a book and sink in for a nice relaxing soak. This was when I would allow all the stresses of my oh-so-complicated life to melt away. Oh how I loved those baths.

Fast forward to 2010, the word 'bath' has been replaced by the word 'tubby' and it's meaning has all together changed. For example, tonight's bath went something like this:

Mom - "It's tubby time"
Nick - "No! I wanna watch 'Battle Force 5'!"
Evan - "UBBY!!!" screamed while running towards the gate that blocks him from the stairs.

Mom - "come on Nick, you need a bath and Evan's waiting"
Nick - "I'm going up the stairs first!" - at which point he opens the gate that Evan is waiting at, hitting him in the face with it as swings open and then slams it shut, getting Evan's finger caught in it once it's latched closed
Evan - "BOO BOO" whimper "BOO BOO"

Mom - "Nicholas James, get upstairs and calmly wait for me while I take care of your brother!"
Nick - already up in his room using my large circular glass vase as a bowling ball
Evan - "BOO BOO"

Mom - "you got boo boo Evan, here let mommy kiss it better. There, is it better now?"
Evan - "yeah"
Nick - "mom, come look at the new game I invented"
Mom - silent prayers that the house is not somehow on fire

At this point I allow Evan to run up the stairs, he goes directly into the bathroom and tries jumping up over and over again in an attempt to reach the light switch. I'm happy that he's occupied by something other than toilet water. I quickly try to calculate how risky it is to let him jump on the tile floor and decide that his risk of slipping is very low since he's barefoot and let him continue because I don't want to hear the screams of protest. I peek into Nick's room to see the newly invented game involves bowling and the previously referred to circular glass vase. I compliment his creativity but remove the vase from his possession none-the-less and heard him towards the bathroom. I have a new found respect for sheepdogs.

Mom - "who's going to get naked first?"
Nick - already almost naked, "me!"
Evan - climbs into the tub fully dressed and turns on the water.

I get Evan undressed and get his ear plugs in place. Nick decided this is the perfect time to have to poop. Lovely. Nick finishes his business and climbs in.

Nick - "can we have bubbles tonight?"
Mom - "I don't think we have any left, but I'll check"
Evan - "BUBBAS BUBBAS BUBBAS!!!"
Mom - "you're in luck, we have just enough for one last tubby left.

Just as the tub is nearly full, bubbles perfectly spread around both children, I notice a piece of poop floating in the tub. Ugh. At least they haven't pulled out the bath toys yet. I drain the tub, clean the tub and then inform the children they now have to bathe without bubbles. This does not go over well. I try to compensate by giving them the hand pump of dial soap. This distracts them long enough for me to fill the empty bubble container with water, shake it and pour it into the tub. I get enough bubble to satisfy them.

They spend the next few minutes fighting for position in the tub. Apparently the best position in the tub is directly under the faucet. Nick pushes Evan, Evan falls and hits his face on the side of the tub, Evan now wants out of the tub and neither of them have been cleaned. I scoop up a hand full of bubbles and distract Evan from his throbbing cheek by blowing the bubbles out of my hand all over the two of them. They laugh hardily. I scoop up a second handful of bubbles and go to blow them at the kids again, however, Evan beats me to it and blows the bubbles all over my face. They laugh harder.

After I dry myself and the floor I get the soap and washcloth to clean the children. This is mostly uneventful. After they're cleaned I allow them to play (read this as saturate my entire bathroom with bath water) for a few minutes. Now it's time for their sinus rinses. I fill the squeeze bottle with the warm salt water and sneak up behind Evan, wrap my left arm around his head choker-hold style and, with my right hand, gently shoot the salt water up his left nostril. As he is not a fan of water boarding, he breaks free of the choker-hold and moves just enough that I squirt warm salt water into my own right eye. After I dry myself off again, I reverse the position and shoot some more salt water up his right nostril. He again moves. This time the warm salt water goes into my mouth. I don't know why, but knowing this water was meant for my son's nose makes it even more gross in my mouth. I refill the bottle and rinse Nick's sinuses. This is also fairly uneventful as he's been doing this for a while and knows that refusal is futile - best to just get it over with. I pull down the shower head and offer a final rinse off.

Tubby time is over. Both children climb, soaking wet, out of the tub and run into Nick's room. Nick's room is literally only like 5 steps from the bathtub. When I catch up with them Nick is happily, nakedly jumping on his brand new Little Tykes Race Car bed while Evan is down the other end peeing on it.

This is the point when I tell Shawn to pause his video game and get up here to help me. My husband was smart enough to have both children dry and dressed by the time I was done cleaning up the pee from the race car.

5 years later I am still a happily married woman; I have experienced the joys of pregnancy and motherhood; my income barely covers my expenses; I have quit smoking; I am in even better health, but can stand to shed some "baby" weight; my career is not as stable these days, but I feel lucky to still have a job in today's economy; I have far fewer friends, but I know that the ones I have left are the best friends a woman could ask for and I know that I still have an extremely wonderful life.

So, I can honestly say that, although the 2010 bath is far less relaxing and far more chaotic, it is most definitely favored in this house! I do have to admit thought that I would appreciate the 2005 bath much more these days than I ever did 5 years ago.

22 Things

This past weekend Shawn and I went to a wedding in Buffalo, New York. We suckered my parents into watching the boys for us for the weekend. I dropped them off at school Friday morning, packed the car and took off for Upstate New York. My parents picked up the kids Friday at 5:00. I think they regretted agreeing to babysit for us by 6:15.

Below is a word-for-word copy of an e-mail my mother sent me after we returned home...

Things I Have Learned in the Last 3 Days (written at random 'cause my brain does not work right now)

1. I will take a 800 pound black bear over a 16-month-old and a 4-year-old. The bear does not scare me as much as they do.

2. Nick feels like he weighs in at 200 pounds when he climbs in bed with you in the middle of the night. He insists on sleeping on top of you.

3. Evan hates waking up to anyone other then his momma.

4. Evan has broken Jessica's record of throwing a fit. He does not pass out. He just keeps screaming.

5. Nick "hears" only what Nick wants to hear.

6. You can survive on chicken McNuggets, bread with butter and cheese sandwiches.

7. You can watch the same tv shows over and over and NOT have a breakdown. At least I think I didn't. I am still hearing "voices" so I am not so sure.

8. Nick is a smooth talker. He can make you feel guilty like a pro.

9. Divide to conquer. You may survive if you split them up.

10. If Nick is playing with something Evan will want it. See number 4 above.

11. Outside or inside does not matter, you can ALWAYS find something to climb on to give Pop Pop a fit.

12. Four-year-olds have a very short memory.

13. Sixteen-month-olds know more then they let on.

14. If a tv show is on, and they are actually watching it, don't even try to ask a question.

15. Frank says if he keeps his eyes closed he can survive anything Nick does.

16. It helps to know where the clean clothes are stored.

17. The "mother's voice" still works when you finally loose your patience.

18. Babysitting is like an episode of Star Trek. Time slows down, but aging does not.

19. If there is a stick, broom or anything that can put an eye out, Evan will want to play with it. See number 4 above.

20. Our hearts are willing, but the bodies can't handle it.

21. If you want to keep Nick occupied, take him to a book store. He will ignore the books, but play with the Thomas the Tank display for hours.

22. Evan's "Damian Face" does not bother Nick at all. We on the other hand know what's coming. See number 4 above.

Glad you guys had a good time. Keep that memory alive as we will NEED an extended recovery time period. LOL

When we got home last night dad said, "do you hear that?" I said, "hear what?" He said, "exactly." The he asked me if I wanted to watch Wow Wow Wubsy or Hot Wheels Battle Force 5. Of course I passed on both, then we went right to BED. The Upside Down Show was in my dreams....

Disclaimer: No beating/spankings where handed out to children during this event. However, they spanked us good!

P.S. We have filed a copy of this for future reference in the event we are asked to do this again in the near future!

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Now, we did have an amazing time at the wedding, then we headed north to visit Niagra Falls for a couple hours before heading home. I don't know if my parents know just how much we needed and appreciated the weekend alone, but I do know that I'm never going to be able to thank them enough. Shawn and I were able to be 'just us' again for the first time in a very long time. We were able to remember how much we love each other and we were able to re-charge ourselves so we have a better chance at keeping up with our children.

Here's to Eric and Andrea - may they be as happy together and Shawn and I are! I'd also like to send some Best Wishes their way for the upcoming birth of their son, Cooper! If any two people I know deserve to find happiness, it's them!!!

So, what do you think the chances are I'll be able to convince my folks to watch the kids so we can go out for our anniversary next weekend? Yeah, I'm betting slim to none.

We're going to the chapel...

I have no idea why, but the other day I decided it was a good idea to ask Nicholas if mommy and daddy should have another baby. He said that we should. I asked if he would prefer this hypothetical baby be a boy or a girl. He said girl. I asked what he would like us to name her. He said 'B' (I'm keeping the full name out of this entry for the privacy of the little girl he's referring to). B is the name of his girlfriend in school. I asked him why he would want to name his sister B. He explains, "when I marry my B, Evan can marry the new B." Interesting way to keep your little brother from stealing your girlfriends, but I see an issue here. I explain to him that brothers and sisters cannot get married. He innocently asked me why. I tell him, "because we don't live in West Virginia." He says (and I'm going to have to spell phonetically here), "why does it matter if we're in Ver-jine-er or not?"

The conversation ended there as I was laughing too hard to respond at that point.